


Go Easy

by ChipTheKeeper



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25287952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChipTheKeeper/pseuds/ChipTheKeeper
Summary: Amid the Rebels' victory celebrations after the Battle of Jakku, Rylan makes what she believes to be a sure bet. But after things don't go her way, she meets a certain shock trooper, and comes to realize that losing isn't always so bad.
Relationships: Cara Dune/Original Character(s), Cara Dune/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Go Easy

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, oops. Love being in the middle of one story when another one starts begging to be written. That being said, I'm still making progress on Force of Habit so fear not. Just had to come back to writing stuff for this dumbass pilot for a bit.
> 
> Anyway, this one is dedicated specially to every lesbian who's ever tagged or commented "I want her to punch me in the face" on a Cara Dune post. Y'all are my people.

It was over.

Rylan couldn’t quite believe it. Years in the cockpit, hundreds of missions, too many lost friends to count. She couldn’t believe she’d made it through it all. Couldn’t believe it was over.

Everyone else seemed to grasp the concept. After Jakku they’d decided on Takodana as the best place to spend the next few days celebrating, and they’d already been at it for a day and a half. It wasn’t just her pals in Rogue Squadron either. At least half a dozen other squads and companies from various parts of the Rebel Alliance -- and plenty of civilians -- had descended upon Maz Kanata’s castle to revel in the victory over the Empire.

All the drinking, yelling, singing, toasting, it was all just a little bit too much for Rylan at the moment. Under other circumstances she would have been right in the thick of it, the center of attention. But now...now that it was over? Now that there was no plan for what came after, no next battle to fight? She didn’t know how to feel. But she sure wasn’t feeling celebratory.

Tycho slid a drink in front of her as she spaced out amid the noise of the crowd. “You ever plannin’ on joining this party, Killis?”

Rylan grabbed the glass and took a cautious drink, exclaiming disgustedly at the foul taste. “If you insist.”

“Oh, I insist,” he said, clinking his own glass against hers and drinking. “I don’t know if you noticed but we’re still alive.”

“I did hear something along those lines, yeah.” There was perhaps no one more responsible for her still being alive than Tycho himself, and vice versa. They’d been each other’s wingman — both in and out of the cockpit — since the day they’d both been assigned to Rogue. She couldn’t count all the times they’d saved each other’s lives, but that number was nothing compared to how often they’d saved each other’s asses.

“Alright, I know what’ll loosen you up,” Tycho said.

Rylan’s face contorted into a revolted frown as she took another sip from the drink he’d given her. “Is that not what this is for? What _is_ this?”

“Better if you don’t know,” he said, then pulled her to her feet by the collar of her jacket. “Come on. A game and a bet, let’s do it.”

He dragged her from the table they’d been seated around with the rest of the squadron and over to the holo-darts board on the wall.

“Oh, he’s feeling lucky today, huh?” As usual, the Alderaanian’s instincts about his buddy were spot on -- nothing would loosen her up better than kicking his ass at her favorite game, especially if there were credits on it. “What’s the bet?”

“Well, you know I’m short on funds since our last game,” he said, “so we’re gonna have to get creative on that front.”

Rylan stretched her throwing arm and hummed in thought. “Loser has to wash the winner’s ship?”

“I might have agreed to that if you hadn’t landed in a damn mud hole when we got here.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know it was a hole and not just a bunch of mud on the ground?”

“I’m not washing your ship Killis.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” Tycho tapped his chin thoughtfully while the Corellian continued stretching. “Ooh okay. So you know how we watched those fights earlier?”

“Yeah....” Rylan said slowly, wondering where this could possibly be going. They’d spent most of the afternoon outside on the shore of the lake, watching pair after pair of idiots duke it out in the makeshift fighting ring. She didn’t really understand the draw of it, for either the participants or the spectators, but it seemed to be a popular pastime. Must have been all the credits changing hands among the winners of the fights and the bets on those fights, she supposed.

“They’ve got more going tomorrow. How about loser has to enter?” Tycho suggested.

Rylan laughed then took her first dart and flung it directly into the center of the target for maximum points, eyes still on her wingman. She shrugged. “It’s your head, mate.”

“I hate it when you do that,” the Alderaanian said with a sigh.

But, to Rylan’s surprise and that of the whole rest of the squadron that had gathered to watch, Tycho played her shot for shot. She only just beat him in the first game, so he suggested a best of three, then managed to squeak out a win in the second. It might have had something to do with the fact that they’d also turned it into a drinking game, taking a shot for each bulls-eye. By the third and deciding game, Rylan was feeling more than a bit tipsy.

Still, with the game on the line she was able to work through it and focus. She really didn’t want to have to enter a fight, after all, and she might as well have been allergic to losing for as much as she hated it. Tycho still kept it close but would need a perfect final throw to force a sudden death round with the way Rylan was playing. He squinted with one eye as he lined up the dart to the center of the holographic board, then fired. Just wide to the left.

“Blast it!” he exclaimed, knowing only the unlikely scenarios of a whole set of poor throws or one complete miss from Ry would save him. “Might as well go sign up now, hope I can get on the roster against a little one.”

Rylan laughed as she tossed her first four darts for bulls-eyes. Before the last one she turned to him. “Nothing personal, buddy.”

She turned around again and aimed, brought her arm back and then forward to release, and at that same moment was knocked completely off her stance by someone passing behind her. The throw came out wobbly, and the dart landed weakly halfway up the wall, nowhere near the holo-board.

Tycho hollered in triumph and the rest of the squadron roared as Rylan whirled around to see who’d bumped her, intent on ripping them a new one. She thought better of it though, when she realized that the person striding away from the scene of the crime was a dark-haired, muscular woman with a tattoo of stripes around her right bicep -- a shock trooper. Getting into it with one of them would get her head bashed in as surely as entering the fights would. All she could do was stare at the woman as she returned to the droppers’ table, where she sat down and a pretty Twi’lek girl sat right in her lap and began whispering in her ear. Only Tycho’s hand clapping down on her shoulder was able to break her gaze at the pair of them.

“Well, I never thought I’d live to see the day,” he said, his voice full of unearned pride. “The mighty Rylan Killis, defeated in battle.”

She elbowed him harshly in the gut. “That was an unfair finish and you know it, flyboy. Three out of five, come on.”

“No way, blondie. You know as well as I do gettin’ bumped is just part of the game. You gotta adapt,” he said, smiling widely and walking away toward the bar before she could argue.

She begrudgingly followed him and took a seat on a barstool again. Tycho ordered them another round of whatever swill they’d had before, and this time Rylan downed it without a second thought. She ignored her wingman’s quip about being a sore loser as she ordered another, choosing instead to peer across the bar at the table full of shock troopers. She’d always thought pilots were the loudest, rowdiest group of soldiers to be around, but they had nothing on that group. They were the life of the party, clearly sharing none of Rylan’s earlier misgivings about what the future meant now that that war was won. And at the middle of it all was the dark-haired woman who’d ruined her game.

Rylan tried to tell herself that the rising heat around her ears was just a mixture of anger and alcohol, but she knew better. Watching the dropper and the Twi’lek play and flirt -- and eventually make out -- soon put the holo-darts game and the bet out of her mind completely. She was fully mesmerized by the trooper’s sharp eyes and dimpled smile, transfixed by the arm muscles she seemed to be constantly flexing.

“Are you really gonna pout all night?” Tycho asked after an indeterminable amount of time had passed. “If you’re really that scared of entering the fights you can just wash my ship instead.”

She looked at him in confusion before it all came back to her again. “I’m not scared.”

He snorted. “Whatever you say, buddy. It’s gettin’ late though. Might wanna turn in for the night. Gotta be rested for your big brawl tomorrow.”

He winked at her and finished off his drink before himself calling it a night. With one last look over at the shock trooper -- who she realized with more than a little disappointment had yet to make eye contact with her -- she followed him out of the bar.

But when she tried to fall asleep in her rented room, thoughts of the interfering trooper kept her up long past the hour that would have gotten her enough rest.

The next morning she was sure she’d dreamed the whole thing. That is, until Tycho brought her a steaming cup of caf to help her get up and energized for her “big fight.” He’d taken the liberty of adding her name to the entry list just in case she happened to forget, and was bouncing around with schoolboy giddiness over the prospect of watching her embarrass herself for the second day in a row.

“You know, if I get brain damage from this and can’t fly anymore, I’m telling General Organa it was your fault,” she warned him.

“As if she’d ever be on your side,” he countered. “We’re both Alderaanians, we have a bond. All you Corellians have ever done is cause her grief.”

Rylan rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t argue with that.

Before she knew it -- before she was ready for it -- the hour had come. Tycho dragged her from the bar again after one last courage-building shot and suddenly it was her turn. Watching the previous fights hadn’t given her any great insight into how to not get killed, much less win. So when her name was called, all she could do was pray that the next name called didn’t belong to some enormous, angry alien.

“And in this corner, a woman who needs _no_ introduction...” the announcer called, and Rylan’s fear ebbed ever so slightly, “ _Caraaaa Duuuuune!_ ”

Much of the crowd cheered loudly, clearly already fans of whoever this Cara Dune person was. She certainly didn’t sound like an enormous, angry alien, Rylan mused. But as soon as the woman entered the ring, she realized she might as well have been.

There, across the sandy pit of a ring, stood the shock trooper she’d stared at the whole previous night. Somehow her muscles now looked even bigger. There was no time to appreciate that, however, as a horn blew suddenly to begin the fight.

Rylan had no idea what she was doing, so when Cara Dune got into what she thought was probably a good fighter’s stance, she tried to mimic it. But apparently it was a poor attempt.

Cara cocked her head at her, dancing around with surprising ease on the balls of her feet. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“Not even by accident, no.” _Do people usually talk during a fight?_

The dropper smirked for just an instant and Rylan’s already shaky knees almost gave out. “Then why did you enter?”

“Lost a bet,” the pilot replied with a shrug. “Kinda your fault, actually.”

“What?”

“Nothin’. Just....try not to kill me. Please.”

“You want me to go easy on you?” the woman asked with a raised eyebrow, continuing to dance around as the crowd grew restless for some action.

“No. Just try not to kill me is all.”

“As you wish,” Cara said, then lunged forward to punch her straight in the stomach.

_Should have asked her to go easy, Killis._

The crowd roared with delight as Rylan fought the urge to either throw up or cry, holding her stomach as she stumbled around. “Maybe if you could -- ugh! -- give me a little warning next time?”

“That’s not really how this works.”

“Oka--”

Before she could finish the word, the dropper swipe-kicked her just above the ankles and knocked her to the ground. The pilot spit out a mouthful of sand and popped back up as quickly as she could, only to find Cara’s fist headed straight for her face. She ducked just in time to avoid it.

“Ha! This isn’t so hard.”

_You fucking laser brain._

Cara Dune didn’t take kindly to that idiotic quip. She charged and tackled Rylan into the sand angrily. Under other circumstances, the pilot would have found that move very attractive. But as it was, she didn’t have the time. The shock trooper straddled her (again, no time) and began raining punches down on her face, most of which Rylan was able to block, but enough landed that she decided immediately to keep her mouth shut from then on.

Summoning all her strength, she managed to throw the larger woman off her long enough to get back to her feet. Pulling that off gave her just enough confidence to go in for a punch of her own, but rather than landing or missing, her fist was caught by Cara’s own hand. The dropper held it in place, and Rylan stared in disbelief at it.

“Hey. Warning,” Cara said, drawing Ry’s attention from their hands to her face.

“Huh?”

“I’m going to punch you in the face now.”

“Wait no I surren--” _BAM!_

And just like that the fight was over.

The next thing Rylan saw was Tycho standing over her with a grin on his stupid face.

“You didn’t even last a minute, ace.”

“Ugh, I’m gonna kill you,” she threatened, but quickly realized she was still lying in the sand, unable to move without getting dizzy, “if I ever figure out how to get up.”

“Ah, don’t be so dramatic,” said another voice above her, Cara Dune’s voice. “Shake it off.”

The dropper reached out with her gloved hand and Rylan flinched before realizing she was offering to help her up. She accepted and was pulled up to her feet in one fluid motion. Tycho quickly clapped a hand on her shoulder to keep her from falling right back over in the other direction.

“Woah. Thanks.”

“Well, you’re on your own now that I know you’re not dead,” Tycho told her. “Can’t be seen around here with someone so embarrassingly bad at fighting.”

He strolled away, leaving her wobbling again before the shock trooper’s strong hand reached out to grab her by the shirt.

“He seems cool,” Cara said.

“Wouldn’t know, never met him before,” Rylan joked and the other woman laughed, and suddenly the woozy feeling was doubled. She fought it long enough to introduce herself. "I'm Ry."

"Cara."

"I'd say it's a pleasure, but...."

"Nah, you don't have to lie," Cara said. “You need a hand back to the bar? Or maybe to...see a medical droid?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“You sure? ‘Cause I was planning to buy you a drink. Sort of an ‘I’m sorry for rearranging your face’ gift,” the dropper said with a smirk.

Rylan’s mind went blank momentarily. “Uhhh...yes. Yeah. Please.”

Cara laughed again at her dumb response. “Maybe the med droid wasn’t a bad idea after all.”

They trudged up to the castle and Ry’s head finally started to feel normal again by the time they got to the bar. She eagerly accepted the flagon of ale that served as an apology for the beatdown.

“Ahhh, I think this is really gonna help,” she said, holding the cold drink to her head. Once again the shock trooper laughed and Rylan told herself she had to do whatever it took to keep hearing that sound.

“Not what I would do with it, but then again I’ve never been in that situation,” Cara said.

“What? You’ve never lost?”

“Nope.”

The pilot nodded appreciatively. “Well, savor that while you can. I, too, was undefeated in my game of choice until last night. Which, by the way, I think you owe me another apology for.”

“What are you talking about?”

Rylan pointed at the holo-darts board dramatically. “I was one dart away from beating Tycho and winning the bet, but you,” her point shifted to Cara’s face, “knocked it out of my hand!”

“What? I don’t even remember going near the dart board, how do you know it was me?”

“I....you...have very distinctive....markings,” Rylan managed to stumble through an explanation once her eyes landed on the arm tattoo, which she then pointed at.

Cara seemed to buy it. “Okay, well if you’re so good, why was the game close enough that one throw made you lose?”

Still pointing, Rylan opened and shut her mouth in quick succession when she realized she had no good excuse on that front.

“I was takin’ it easy on him,” she lied with a shrug. “Tych’s an Alderaanian, you know, he’s....fragile.”

Cara’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Is that what you think of Alderaanians?”

“Whaaa- no,” the pilot said, sensing she’d stepped in it. “No, not at all, that was--it’s like a joke between me and him--”

“Good,” the dropper cut her off. “‘Cause not all of us are...fragile.”

“You’re-you....ah, kriff me,” Rylan slapped a hand to her forehead before looking apologetically at the other woman. “Kinda feel like you should punch me in the face again.”

“I think I’d like to,” Cara said coldly. But after a moment she grinned, and Rylan sighed in relief.

“I’m sorry. I’m not usually this bad at talking.”

“I think you’re going to have to prove that to me.” She shot the Corellian a challenging look as she took a drink.

Rylan wasn’t about to fail at three challenges in a row. From that point on she was her usual charming self, full of stories and jokes that thankfully didn’t offend the tough Alderaanian. They talked for hours, drinking as they went, and, without even realizing it, inching their barstools closer together bit by bit.

Three -- or was it four? -- drinks in, Rylan could no longer stop herself from flirting openly. The dropper seemed to be into it, so when she noticed the holo-darts board open up and saw an opportunity to show off, she took it.

“You’re lucky I’m as inexperienced at this as you are in the ring,” Cara said, letting her first dart fly, well wide of the target.

Rylan chuckled at the attempt and stepped forward to correct her form, letting her hand linger a moment longer than necessary on the other woman’s wrist. “Well, at least your inexperience won’t get you a concussion.”

She fired a no-look bulls-eye while maintaining eye contact with Cara, who responded only by rolling her eyes in amusement.

The game went exactly as expected. Cara struggled to hit the center of the board, while Rylan showboated, a flirtatious smile plastered across her face the whole time. They took advantage of every excuse to touch, as well. Ry continued to help fix the Alderaanian’s form, and Cara continued to pretend to need it. They high-fived when she managed to land a shot close to the center, and they let their hands brush together on the exchange of darts after they retrieved each other’s from the board.

Rylan pumped her fist in triumph after nailing the last shot of the game for an easy win, and the dropper shook her head.

“I bet you pouted all night after you lost, didn’t you?” she accused more than asked.

“You mean after you helped Tycho cheat me out of a win?” the Corellian countered, and Cara rolled her eyes again. “Nah, I didn’t pout. You wanna know what I did?”

She strode over to stand face to face with the Alderaanian, who leaned against the wall with her arms crossed.

“What’s that?”

“I sat at the bar and spent the rest of the night gettin’ jealous of that pretty Twi’lek you had in your lap,” she said, leaning against the wall herself and grinning.

“Ohhh,” Cara said, sizing her up and making a point not to grin back. “You wanna sit in my lap, is that it?”

“Or, you know, you could sit in mine,” Ry said with a casual shrug. “I’m not picky.”

She leaned slightly forward, and Cara reached across the small gap between them to grasp the flap of her gray jacket. “You certainly are bold, though, aren’t you?”

“Well, I am a pilot.” She leaned in some more.

“Which is why I make it a point not to sleep with pilots.” The trooper’s eyes flicked briefly down to look at her lips.

Rylan caught it and smiled. “Surely you could make an exception to that rule, hmm? For the right pilot.”

“If I ever meet one I just might.” Cara bit her own lip as her eyes darted down again.

“Glad to hear it,” Ry said, and closed the space between them, kissing the beautiful shock trooper the way she’d wanted to since the night before. Cara kissed her back eagerly, her grip tightening on the pilot’s jacket. Rylan deepened the kiss, pulling her body closer, and the Alderaanian moved her other hand up to tug lightly on her short blonde hair. Before long it was clear that things were headed in a direction unbecoming of Maz’s common room.

“You got a room, pilot?” Cara asked when Ry’s mouth began to move on and explore the side of her neck. She just nodded her answer, uninterested in stopping. “Lead the way.”

The Corellian lingered for a moment then finally tore herself away. She led her up to her room, where she barely made it inside and shut the door before being slammed forcefully against the wall.

“Ow,” she whined as Cara took control of the moment, tearing off Rylan’s jacket with lustful eagerness.

“What?” the Alderaanian asked with a devilish grin. “You want me to go easy on you?”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! No plans to continue this one but if you like what you see and haven't yet checked out my other Cara fics, there are plenty at this point! Let me know what you think here or on tumblr (@chippingthegoalkeeper)


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